


I Won't Ask

by LoverCrowley (ShadowScale)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:50:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowScale/pseuds/LoverCrowley
Summary: Post non-apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale take the bus home. Aziraphale changes pace.





	I Won't Ask

After the non-apocalypse, when they take the bus home, Crowley gets in first. He sits down, sprawls in the seat as he always does, and rests one hand on his knee with his palm facing up. An invitation.

Aziraphale does not hesitate to take it. He is not even settled in his own seat before he’s reaching down to hold it, and linking their fingers together.  
Neither of them say a word about it. Neither so much as looks down at their hands.

Crowley is, for a brief moment, glad that he’s not driving the Bentley. He surely couldn’t concentrate on the road; the hand in his and the speed of his heartbeat are far too distracting.

\--

The bus pulls to a stop outside Crowley’s apartment. Crowley starts to pull his hand away, but Aziraphale holds firm, stands, and tugs Crowley to his feet. He stands aside and allows the demon to lead the way.

Crowley miracles his door unlocked. He usually does, but this time he had no choice since his keys had been in the Bentley.

It is only once they are inside with the door shut behind them that Aziraphale releases his hand. Crowley releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well, here we are… home sweet home,” Crowley says. He slips off his glasses, tucks them into his jacket pocket and starts down the hallway, ready to give a tour when a hand against his upper arm stops him. He turns, and Aziraphale steps closer, facing him.

“You’re right. About sides. About being on _our_ side.” Aziraphale is looking down a bit, his eyes trained on Crowley’s tie. Crowley wishes he would look up instead, and speak just a bit louder. If he were a step farther away, Crowley would be straining to hear his words.

Aziraphale continues, “I suppose that’s how it’s been for quite some time, hasn’t it? Just you and me.” His voice cracks. He almost loses his resolve, but he looks up and takes a sharp inhale. It’s dark, but what little light makes it to them from a window down the hallway is enough to dimly illuminate the sharp angle of Crowley’s face, and to make his serpent eyes glow. Aziraphale struggles to remember the last time he’s seen Crowley’s eyes fully golden, his pupils wide. Perhaps not since the garden. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring until Crowley prompts him, “Angel?”

“Yes? Yes. I erm.” Aziraphale reaches down and takes Crowley’s hand again, holding it between both of his own. “Thank you, Crowley, for being patient with me. Perhaps it’s not that you go too fast, just that I’m… too slow.”

They are both still for a moment, then Crowley closes the distance between them to press their foreheads together. “Your pace is your own, Aziraphale. I can’t fault you for that. I’d- I’d wait another 6000 years if you asked.”

Aziraphale smiles and cups Crowley’s face with one hand. “I won’t ask that of you, Crowley. I only ask that you’d kiss me.”

Crowley blinks once, makes a strangled noise, and presses their lips together. It is soft and gentle and giving. It is a reflection of the Crowley that Aziraphale has come to know over these past many years. It is _nice_.

Aziraphale leans forward to quicken the kiss and huffs in disappointment when Crowley pulls away, just out of reach.

“Take it easy, angel. We’ve got all the time in the world.”


End file.
